If It Can Be Broken
by splashdown
Summary: When someone's broken, can they really be fixed? DracoGinny oneshot.


Basically this is a stupid, little continuation of a 100 word drabble I wrote for a D/G community on livejournal. It's kind of random and maybe hard to understand, but then again, it's just a drabble. Hope you like it. :)

**If It Can Be Broken**

She overheard him. She didn't _mean_ to, of course, but the fact remained that she overheard him. She was in the library, like any other normal Sunday afternoon spent without him by her side, when she heard his voice from the next aisle over. As Ginny roamed down the row, the undying ache to be near him filled her entire body so much that she wasn't quite sure if she'd be able to keep quiet, to keep standing up, to keep away, even though just the night before she had been in his chambers and in his arms and in his safety. She willed her mind to listen to his words, to focus on the coldness of his voice that she so loved and admired. She crept closer and closer and soon was at the edge of the bookshelf where he was barely visible in her eyesight, his shocking blonde hair perfectly mused on the top of his head, his Hogwarts uniform perfectly placed on his body, his posture perfectly straight. There wasn't anything about him that wasn't perfect.

"—doubtful that she'll realize anytime in the next century. She _is_ nothing but a naïve, little Gryffindor with the same noble heart as everyone else in that bloody house," Draco drawled lazily.

"If Potter only knew that his sodding ex-_girl_friend isn't as inno—" the other one said before being cut off. She wasn't certain she knew to whom the voice belonged, but she couldn't be bothered with trying to figure it out, not when Draco was speaking again.

"Potter will know when the time is right," he sneered. "And only then. We mustn't spoil the surprise so quickly, Zabini."

Blaise. But why would he be telling this to Blaise? He told her that it must be kept a secret, for if anyone found out, well - it was unthinkable. She was a Weasley, and he, a Malfoy. They both came from two separate worlds, two completely different dimensions of time, two widely dissimilar upbringings. While Ginny was showered with love and affection, Draco had been taught that such emotions were useless and weak, and Malfoy's were certainly neither. She shook her head and concentrated on the conversation again.

"Are you quite positive that you've got no feelings toward that – that _girl?_" Blaise asked, his voice thick with scorn.

"Quite," Draco replied, not missing a beat. "I told you, Zabini, this is my treasure, my prize for the tasks that I've already completed. She means _nothing_ to me, and there isn't anything that will please me more than to break her heart and watch it crumble to her feet. Not even Saint _Potter_ will want her then," he spat, his every word dripping with malice.

She couldn't be hearing this. He must be joking. Surely, she, Ginny, must be dreaming. She tried hard to keep the tears back, but the hot feeling behind her eyes was becoming unbearable. How could she be so stupid! He was a _Malfoy_, for Merlin's sake!

Her voice shook as she tried inhaling, and the rumble on the other side of the bookshelf told her that the two boys had finally noticed the intruder to their exchange. As Draco rounded the corner and saw her, his eyes widened in shock as he realized that it had been she who was listening. He quickly composed himself as Blaise stood next to him, and they both watched as Ginny, silent tears streaming down her pale cheeks, pushed her way out of the library and into the corridors.

"Looks like your plan didn't work out as well as you wanted," Blaise said smugly, relishing on his superiority of the moment.

"Just a glitch," Draco retorted over his shoulder as he gracefully strode in the direction of the exit. "If it can be broken, it can be fixed. And I assure you, Zabini, that this will be fixed."

As he entered into the corridors, he silently cursed himself for being so casual with both his words and his choice of company. Despite the fact that Blaise Zabini was his oldest and closest acquaintance (because Malfoy's most certainly didn't have _friends_ as friends turned into enemies, but acquaintances only knew as much as they were told and could be held a fair distance away), Draco knew that he shouldn't have divulged his most-guarded information.

He quickly scanned the hallways, but to his immense displeasure, they were entirely devoid of any students or professors alike. He hastily ran his fingers through his hair as he debated which way to go before deciding left was the best choice.

As he made his way through corridor after corridor, his heart began to thud in his chest. What if he couldn't find her? He worked too hard for this, for her, for _everything_ to completely crumble around him. He growled to himself as his gaze shifted to the window and noticed the familiar glow of that fiery ginger hair and that pale exterior he found ever-so-captivating.

In his haste to get to the entrance hall, Draco did not even notice that the skies were raging murderously and were forcefully wreaking havoc upon the grounds of. As he flung upon the front entrance, the wind nearly knocked him back until he steeled his demeanor and took off into the downpour.

She couldn't believe that she'd let herself fall for Draco bleeding Malfoy. For _any_ Malfoy, for that matter. Hadn't her parents, her friends, _everyone_ taught her that he was evil? That he stood for such horribly terrifying beliefs? That he wasn't even worth a second glance? That he wasn't the image of perfection he truly portrayed in her eyes? Her heart broke as she remembered the way he had looked at her just the night before, while she laid quietly atop his dark green carpet and picked at her nails. Right then, she would've given anything to go back in time and live in that moment forever, without her friends and her family and everything she then knew.

"I'm so _stupid_!" she shouted, her fist pounding itself into the tree she was just moments before slumped against. She didn't even feel the pain that that had inflicted; in fact, she welcomed any pain and marveled at the way the blood ran from the cuts in between her knuckles and down her fingers as it combined with the falling rain. She lifted her arms, tilting her head toward the vulnerable, gray sky and let out a scream of the agony her body, heart, and soul all felt. It wasn't until she quieted that she heard him approaching. Only Draco Malfoy could walk through the _bloody _rain so utterly _arrogant_.

"Go back to your perch, _Malfoy_," she spat, the alikeness to Draco's own coldness sending shivers down his spine. "You did your job, you broke the heart of the little Weasley, you watched as it fell to the bloody fucking _ground_! Are you _happy_, Malfoy? Are you _proud?_"

He regarded her in silence as the rain fell, drenching them both to the bone. He looked her up and down, noting the way the blood from her wounded hand dripped, dripped, dripped onto the ground. The way her white wool sweater clung to her body as the rain continued to pound down on it ferociously. The way some of her long, ginger tendrils were being whipped in the wind, the rest plastered to her soft, broken face.

_She's beautiful_, he thought, feeling something he'd never before felt creep into the pit of his stomach and envelop his heart.

"_Well_?" she demanded loudly, bringing him out of his reverie and back to the moment.

"Ginevra, I –" he began but soon realized he couldn't find the words to set things straight. He stood there, awkwardly, hating himself more and more by the second.

She huffed and pushed past him. If he wasn't going to give her answers, then she didn't want to see him, didn't want anything to do with him. His voice made her stop in tracks.

"Ginevra, wait," he called, the harshness of his voice giving her the chills. She slowly turned toward him, waiting for him to make everything better, to explain his actions, to justify her aching hand, her silent tears, her broken heart. When he didn't give her any of those, once again, she sighed.

"Did you mean it?" she asked him, her voice barely audible through the heavy rain that surrounded them.

He looked at her but suddenly found that even his cold heart couldn't stand the pain she failed to hide. His eyes roamed the wet grounds as he found the strength to respond. "Every word."

When she didn't reply, he quickly reverted his gaze back onto her, but she had already turned her back and walked away, leaving him alone to listen to nothing but the rain descending down upon the earth, which was far worse than an eternity of her silence.

He couldn't stop the words from tumbling his mouth, just like he couldn't stop her from running back up the castle and away from him. Malfoy's don't consort with Weasley's – he couldn't help that - and it was his _own damn fault_ for being so careless and so casual and so heartless. And it was his _own damn fault_ for letting himself fall for the one girl he knew he couldn't have.

It was that thought that brought him back to his senses. Finally realizing what was happening, he pushed off from the ground with a loud "Oh, sod it all!" and began sprinting toward the castle and toward the one girl who accepted him, the one girl who let him be someone other than the person he loathed. The one girl who made him _feel alive_ for the first time in his life.

The one girl who made him feel anything at all.

"Ginevra," he panted, forgetting the stitch in his side, the mud on his shoes, the rain that soaked his entire body. Forgetting who he was and who he was to become. Forgetting it all. "Ginevra," he repeated, trying desperately to close the distance between the two of them. But she wouldn't stop. She opened the doors and walked into the entrance hall with her head held high, despite how wrecked she looked.

As he caught up with her, he stopped, allowing himself to catch his breath before shouting her name again. "Ginevra!"

Ginny stopped again, halfway up the first set of stairs. Why was he calling to her inside the _castle_? Where everyone could see him? Could see them? She turned, looking over her shoulder and down at the sopping figure standing just inside the entranceway and gasped. He was staring at her in that way of his, like he had just the night before. His gray eyes, so similar to the crashing skies right outside, were boring straight into her chocolate ones, his desire and aching completely evident to anyone who looked at him. Just then, he straightened and began striding to the stairs, where he took them two at a time until he was standing in front of her.

"Ginevra," he said once more, his heart pounding in his ears. Her heart pounding in his ears. He took her face in his hands and plunged his mouth down upon her own, passionately crushing her lips against her teeth. Her hands quickly tangled in his wet hair, her fingers pulling gently at each strand.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he pulled back and stared as she licked her lips and tucked her damp hair behind her ears. Neither of them noticed the large gathering of students below them, whispering aloud to one another: "Draco _Malfoy_ and Ginny _Weasley_?" "When did _this_ happen?" "What will his _father_ say?" "Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. She can't change him."

"You're beautiful," he said to her, stroking one long, agile finger across her flushing cheek.

"Do you mean it?" she asked him quietly, moving her dainty hand to rest on his.

"Every word," he repeated, and this time, he meant it. Searching her eyes for the pain he'd just seen outside in the pouring rain, he said, "If it can be broken, it can be fixed. Do you understand, Ginevra?"

She smiled. "Every word."


End file.
